


Tyrant

by kylarey



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, dreamnotfound, there was so much potential for angst but canon didnt use it so i will, this started off platonic but it soon became gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylarey/pseuds/kylarey
Summary: Lucky, Wilbur thought, I’m lucky.No matter how many times he told himself so, riding shoulder-to-shoulder with Dream still made his hairs stand on end. Tommy didn’t seem to have a problem with it, but then again, Tommy was too eager to trust people. Dream was a damned snake through and through, always holding a dagger behind his back. Wilbur dared a sidelong glance at the armour-covered soldier, wondering what went on behind the blank mask.In which betrayal and love spiral into flames, taking the server with it.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Kudos: 20





	1. In Which I Repeatedly Forget Tommy’s In The Scene

**Author's Note:**

> i did this at 10pm and its very messy pls dont judge me

Lucky, Wilbur thought, I’m lucky.  
No matter how many times he told himself so, riding shoulder-to-shoulder with Dream still made his hairs stand on end. Tommy didn’t seem to have a problem with it, but then again, Tommy was too eager to trust people. Dream was a damned snake through and through, always holding a dagger behind his back. Wilbur dared a sidelong glance at the armour-covered soldier, wondering what went on behind the blank mask. 

His breath snagged in his throat as L’manburg loomed into view, the once-majestic walls crumbling and decrepit. Beside him, Dream let out a low whistle and pulled his horse to a halt.

“Damn,” he laughed, “Schlatt knew what he was doing.”

Wilbur gritted his teeth, deigning not to answer. Their mission was simple. Dream caused a distraction while Wilbur and Tommy snuck in and delivered several stacks of hard-won TNT to Tubbo. Niki and Tubbo would take care of the rest, and if things went smoothly, Schlatt and his cabinet would be dead in a day’s time.

“Well,” Dream grinned at him, pulling up his hood, “we’d better get going.”

Wilbur watched him thunder down the hillside, directly towards the gates where people were already gathering to meet him. Steeling himself, he nodded to Tommy and they broke into a gallop, cantering into the forest towards their prearranged meeting point.

Tubbo was waiting, pacing anxiously around a tree. His head snapped up at the sound of hooves and he hurried to greet them, face lighting up in an oh-so familiar fashion. Wilbur dismounted with a small smile. Though he was unwilling to admit it, he’d missed the boy. And, he thought, noting Tommy’s absentminded grin, he clearly wasn’t alone in that.

The trade was quick, gunpowder for information. Wilbur watched Tubbo load the bombs into a carriage, struggling under the weight, and resisted the urge to ruffle his hair.

Finally finished, Tubbo clambered into the saddle. Wilbur glanced up towards the sun, hanging overhead. They’d have to hurry to meet Dream in time. He shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled at Tubbo, trying his best to pretend he wasn’t going to miss him incredibly much. The younger boy snapped the reins, and his horse reared, poised and ready. Wilbur saw the hesitation in Tubbo’s eyes, saw him pause and turn to them again, maybe to tell them something he hadn’t before.

He never found out, because at that moment leaves crunched behind them and the creak of a bowstring had them all whipping around.

“Well, well, well,” Quackity drawled, Punz’s nocked arrow still aimed straight at Wilbur’s throat, “what do we have here?”

Oh, gods. Wilbur’s hand twitched towards his shield, well aware that it probably wouldn’t get there in time to save him.

“Move and I shoot,” Punz snarled, arm pulling back further. Wilbur stopped, instead spreading his hands in front of him.

“Don’t get me wrong, Soot,” Quackity laughed, stepping forward, “you will die. But I’m more curious as to what our dear Secretary of State is doing here.”

Tubbo was frozen, wide-eyed stare flickering from Quackity to Punz. Wilbur met his horrified gaze, pleading. All Tubbo had to do was cut the ropes binding him to the wagon and he could easily outride them. A flick of a sword, a twitch of the reins and he could be gone. Two movements. That was all it would take. Run, Wilbur begged silently, please run.

Too late. Quackity strode over and yanked Tubbo from his saddle by the collar. The boy’s cry of pain as he tumbled onto the leaf-carpeted ground was enough to make Wilbur contemplate going for his sword. Beside him, Tommy tensed.

“Bitch,” Tommy snarled, glaring furiously at Quackity. “Let him go.”

Quackity’s mouth curled up into a grin and he whacked Tubbo hard over the head, drawing another yelp from the younger boy.

Before Wilbur could say anything, Tommy was flying past him, spitting with rage, and slammed Quackity into the ground before he even had a chance to draw his sword. Wilbur took the moment of distraction to charge at Punz, sending his lethal shot wide. The blonde soldier cursed, tossing his bow aside and reaching for his sword. Wilbur blocked the first blow and lunged in for his own. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tubbo scrambling to his feet.

“Run!” He yelled, fending off another attack from Punz, “Run now!”

A moment later, the thunder of hooves told him Tubbo had listened. Punz and Quackity paused momentarily, nocking arrows towards the fading figure.

Giving Wilbur just enough time to throw a lit match into the abandoned carriage.

The hiss warned them. Their shouts rose as they backed away from it, shields up. Wilbur grabbed Tommy’s arm and hauled him up off the ground, fumbling for his stirrups, his reins, and then they were riding but not fast enough—

The explosion was loud enough to rattle his skull. Wilbur leaned down and stroked the mane of his panicking horse, urging it onwards, vaguely aware of Tommy beside him. They galloped clear of the smoke, but kept going until the crackling of flames were far, far behind them.

━───────⊹⊱✙⊰⊹───────━

Dream was waiting when they finally reached their rendezvous, seated casually atop his horse, examining his nails. He looked up boredly as they arrived, raising an eyebrow at their charred clothes and matted hair.

“You’re late,” was all he said.

Wilbur bared his teeth. “Well, not all of us had the privilege of a fancy dinner in Schlatt’s palace, Dream.”

The masked man sighed, dropping his arms. “I take it from your disheveled state and the explosion I heard earlier that things didn’t go as planned?”

“That’s one way to put it.” Wilbur glanced up at the smoke drifting through the sky. “We don’t even know if Tubbo’s okay.”

Tommy snarled. “With any luck, those bastards who found us will have been killed in the explosion.”

Dream snapped his reins. “Maybe. Anyhow, we’d better get going—“

“Dream?”

Wilbur froze. He’d been so busy talking he hadn’t even heard the approaching hooves. Cursing silently, he slowly turned to face—

Brown hair, dark white-rimmed glasses, and a crisp, well-tailored suit.

“George?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked it! this story won’t be very long, maybe 2 or 3 chapters, and i didnt plan it at all so it’s not my best work, but i hope yall enjoy anyway!


	2. In Which I Accidentally Forgot To Make This Platonic

Oh, gods. Oh, gods, gods, gods.  
Wilbur looked from Dream to George, hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. He’d known, of course, that George had allied himself with Schlatt, and assumed Dream knew too. But looking at him now...no, he definitely hadn’t known. And Wilbur hadn’t even thought of telling him, hadn’t even thought—  
“What’s—what are you doing, Dream?” George was still holding his crossbow, although he lowered the tip. “What are you doing with—with—“  
“Wait.” Dream’s voice was incredulous, disbelieving. “Wait. You’re with them?”  
Wilbur saw George flinch, but his voice was even as he replied, “I could ask you the same thing.”  
“George.” Dream sounded like he didn’t believe what he was hearing. “George. What are you doing, George?”  
Wilbur wished he could see the man’s eyes behind his dark glasses. He swallowed. “I have to turn them in, Dream.”  
“What—wait, no. George.” Dream dropped his reins and lifted his hands quickly to his face, tearing off his mask. “George—George, it’s me.”  
Wilbur couldn’t help but stare. It had been an age since he last saw Dream’s face. The blonde gazed at George with bright green eyes, almost pleading.  
“I—I know, Dream.” He hadn’t ever heard George speak that softly before.  
The silence that came next was heavy, thick with disbelief and hurt, the kind you have to shatter and shred lest it tear you apart from the inside out.  
Wilbur nudged his horse a step forward. “We have to go, Dream. If he tells—well, he can’t be here alone. If Schlatt finds us...”  
Verdant eyes flickered to him, and for a moment it looked as if Dream might just turn and leave, but then his gaze returned to George.  
“Come with us,” Dream said, voice barely more than a whisper, “please.”

“Come with us. Please.”  
George wanted nothing more than to avoid Dream’s gaze, but he couldn’t look away. His brilliant green eyes had never looked so broken, his gaze never felt so torn. Please, he wanted to tell him, please don’t ask me for something I can’t give you. Please don’t beg. Please don’t rip your own heart to shreds and take mine with it. Please.  
Because he would. Dream would willingly rip and tear and claw at himself, would fling open all his doors and let George into the most hidden parts of him if he thought it necessary. If he thought it would prove himself worthy of George’s love. As if he didn’t already have it, unconditionally and eternally. And it scared him. Scared him that Dream was so willing to reduce himself to nothing, scared him that he was the cause of such desperation.  
Yet still, he wanted nothing more than to oblige him.  
But he forced himself to back his horse up a few steps, forced himself to tear away from that fixing green gaze. “I can’t, Dream. I’m sorry.”  
Dream laughed, a breathy, shattered noise. “What? But George…”  
“Dream, we have to go,” Wilbur urged, glancing warily at them.  
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, turning his horse around. “I’m sorry.” He nudged it into a trot.  
“George. George!”  
“Dream, let’s go!”  
“George!”  
Gods, he sounded so hurt. So fragile. “I’m sorry!” He called, and urged his horse into a gallop.  
Faster and faster, he tore through the trees. Not once did he dare look back, but the sound of Dream calling his name rang in his ears long after he was out of sight.

Wilbur was rooted to the spot, glancing from Dream to the empty space where George had been and then back again. The blonde stared blankly into the distance, as if he could still see his friend galloping away through the trees. As if he could bring him back.  
“…Dream?” Wilbur dared tentatively after a moment, fiddling with his reins.  
“Yeah.” The reply was sharp, short. “Yeah. Let’s go.”  
There were distant shouts and Wilbur knew they should go, but for some reason, he didn’t want to move. Something had changed—no, Dream’s tone meant something. It felt important. A blade plunged deep into stone. A mark. A decision.  
“Where are we heading, Dream?” He asked carefully.  
“Back to our bases.” Dream lifted his mask, slipping the strap over his head. “We need more TNT. We’ll get more.”  
“What for?” Tommy asked, tense.  
The mask fitted perfectly into place, and a night-black smile turned to face them. “I’m gonna blow that place to high hell.”  
With that, he snapped his reins and cantered away into the forest.  
Oh, gods. Bracing himself for the storm, Wilbur gritted his teeth and rode after him.

Betrayal.  
Yes, that was what it was.  
Betrayed, he had been betrayed. Betrayed by someone he trusted, someone he cared for, someone he’d confided in and relied on, someone who had stood beside him for years.  
I’m sorry, he’d said.  
Liar.  
Liar, liar. Friendly fire.  
He wasn’t sorry. He was a traitor. And Dream would never consider him anything else. From that moment on, he was nothing but a traitor.  
_I love you, Dream. _  
Liar, liar. Heart on fire.  
Hurt, it hurt. Like flames were being poured into his veins, charring at his mind and heart. His eyes swam and his hands shook and blurred in front of him. Could they see, did they see the smoke curling from his mouth? Did they see the ashes clogging up his throat? Did they feel the simmering heat, could they hear the roaring flames burning and consuming within?  
Smoke fogging his breath, bitter on his tongue.  
Dragon. Serpent. Snake.  
_I’m sorry, Dream!_   
Liar, liar. World on fire.  
Liar, liar. Light the fire.  
Liar, liar. Let it burn.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i geniunely intended for this to be platonic when i started out. idk what happened if im being honest. did this chapter sound too much like heatwaves? hope you enjoyed anyway!


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